


Who Do You Want?

by RickGrimes



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Incest, Jealousy, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Prison, Season/Series 03, Shower Sex, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickGrimes/pseuds/RickGrimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick gets jealous when he sees Daryl talking to Carl. Turns out that Carl knows why, or at least thinks he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Do You Want?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CarlGrimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarlGrimes/gifts).



> Hey, hope you enjoy the story! Be warned that it is underage and incestuous. Other than that, there's nothing really to warn about. Comment if you like it or have anything to ask/suggest.

Carl was sitting at the picnic tables in the courtyard sharpening his knife. It had been a relatively calm couple of days which was much needed given it had been a never-ending struggle since the beginning. No breaches of the cell blocks. No new threats. No sicknesses. No deaths. The group wasn’t letting their guard down, but they could breathe a little easier.

Carl adjusted his hat, swiping his thumb and forefinger around the rim before settling his hand back on the table. He took a look around his surroundings—he liked to keep tabs on everyone just to be safe. Carol, Maggie, and Glenn had watch and the fences. Hershel, Beth, and Judith were in the cellblock when he last checked. Rick was around the corner in the gardens by the wall, and Daryl was walking towards him?

“Hey kid,” Daryl sat next to him on the bench, keeping his bow slung across his body.

Carl nodded at him, “What’s up?”

“Nothin’.”

They sat in silence at the table for a few minutes, Carl scraping his knife against the sharpening steel.

Daryl watched him intently, “Here, let me see,” he said, gesturing to the knife and rod.

Carl frowned slightly, he could do it himself.

“You gotta do it more like this,” the man said, demonstrating his technique.

It actually did seem to work better, and it made less of a grating sound.

“Thanks,” Carl said, a bit reluctantly.

“No problem,” Daryl replied.

Rick approached the water tank next to them to refill the bottle he kept with him while gardening. He looked from Daryl to Carl and narrowed his eyes. He walked away in the opposite direction of the garden.

“What’s botherin’ your old man?” Daryl asked.

Carl shrugged, “How should I know?” He had a feeling he did know, though.

“Might as well clean our guns while we’re at it,” Daryl said, with an easy smile.

Carl smiled back. He was kind of excited to be bonding with Daryl; he was a role model of sorts—good at hunting, driving, tracking, providing, not to mention brave. Maybe if he was more like that he could keep up with his dad.

The boy pulled out his piece and set it on the table. He looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. His dad came up to the table and sat across from them, pulling out his own gun and beginning to clean it. When it was quiet like this it was best to perform maintenance and stock up on supplies so they were ready for when shit inevitably hit the fan.

“Rick,” Daryl greeted.

Rick looked up at him in response and grunted, looking to Carl with an unreadable expression. Carl suddenly wondered if his dad was mad at him for some reason.

Carl and Daryl exchanged looks, it wasn’t exactly like they weren’t used to Rick’s moods. Everyone had them most of the time, it was just the way it was. This seemed different though. They didn’t know whether to include Rick in their conversation or just let him be.

“What’s it like to shoot with a bow?” Carl asked, turning to Daryl.

“You mean instead of a gun?”

“Yeah, it’s so much cooler. Like native,” Carl grinned.

Daryl shook his head at the boy, “You could say that. It’s heavier than a gun, but it’s quiet and the arrows can be used again. Even better for huntin’ so the bullet doesn’t mess up the meat.”

Carl nodded, fascinated. Rick glared at his gun harder.

“Could you teach me how to use it?” Carl said, lying all of his gun’s parts on the table in order of disassembly

Daryl looked to Rick who showed no sign of answering, “Sure, if ya want. It might be a little tricky ‘cause you’re a bit small, but you can try,” he teased.

“I’m not small!” Carl protested, shoving sideways to bump Daryl.

“Are too, little man.”

Rick looked up from his gun, “Daryl, why don’t you join the others on watch. We don’t need any surprises.”

Daryl nodded, accepting Rick’s suggestion, “Sure thing. See ya later buddy,” he said to Carl.

Rick watched Daryl retreating angrily, his expression unchanging until he looked to Carl, “Why don’t you finish that? You might need it soon. This isn’t free time.”

Carl glared, “Whatever.”

“Excuse me?”

“What’s your problem? It’s not like I’m sitting here doing nothing, I was sharpening my knife. Cleaning my gun, and talking to Daryl about practicing.”

“Yeah, _talking_ with _Daryl_. Since when are you two so close anyhow?”

“I don’t know. He was just showing me how to do the knives better.”

“Your way was just fine,” Rick argued.

“What are you jealous that I was talking to him instead of you?” Carl accented the question with clicking the last part of his gun in place and setting it on the table obnoxiously.

Rick froze, looking at Carl like a deer in headlights, “Of course not. I just don’t see why he needs to help you. You’ve managed this long.”

Carl smiled antagonistically, “You’re a liar. You’re jealous!”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Rick said, finishing up with the last piece of his gun.

Carl got up.

“Where are you goin’?” Rick demanded.

“I’m going to take a shower. I finished, and it’s not like they need my help on watch. You seem to have the gardening covered pretty well.”

Rick was fuming, “Go on then. I won’t stop you.”

Carl stood there challenging him, “Why are you jealous?”

“’M not,” Rick said, “Just go.”

They glared at each other until Carl gave up, shaking his head and heading for the showers.

Rick deliberated for a few minutes and then followed him.

 

Rick walked into his room and grabbed a shirt, then continued walking to the bathroom. He entered hesitantly, wondering how far Carl had gotten—he wasn’t there yet. Rick frowned; the boy was sure taking his time. He stripped and threw his shirt on the floor, while keeping his pants, holster, and boots in a pile out of the way on the chair.

He stood by the water pump and closed the curtain. He pumped the handle for a couple seconds and stood under the stream of water. The temperature wasn’t ideal, but it felt good to be at least semi-clean.

Rick jumped when he heard the door, he could see Carl’s silhouette through the white curtain. He could hear clothes falling to the floor and then Carl’s footsteps approaching him. The boy pulled the curtain aside and stepped beside him.

Rick turned to the side to try and hide himself. Carl rolled his eyes.

“Carl what are you doing in here? Use another one!”

“For what? It’s not like I haven’t seen you before, besides why waste the water?” He said cheekily.

Rick bit down a smile, “Aren’t you a little old to be sharing a shower with me?”

“Depends on how you look at it,” Carl teased.

The man wasn’t sure how to take it, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Carl stepped closer to Rick under the water, “I know why you were jealous.”

Rick turned to face Carl, pumping more water out without looking. Carl’s eyes flashed down and up.

“Oh?” Rick indulged Carl, running his fingers through his hair to loosen some of the dirt.

Carl nodded, inches away from his dad now, “You think Daryl wants me.”

“No.”

“Then what?” Carl asked, confused.

“You want him,” Rick admitted.

Carl’s flirtatious expression melted into laughter, “No way!”

Rick was irritated by the mocking laughter, but appeased at the admission. Carl would tell him if he was right. “Then who do you want?”

“I can’t say,” the boy admitted, looking down, running his hands over himself in place of using a loofah.

Rick was intrigued, “Tell me,” he teased.

Carl smiled, “Don’t be mad.”

“Promise,” Rick said, anticipating Carl’s answer.

Carl stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his father under the running water, “You.”

Rick felt his cheeks burn under the cool water. The answer was shocking, but…not unwanted. He returned the boy’s gesture and put his arms around him, “You got me then.”

“Really?” the boy muttered into his father’s chest.

“If you’re sure,” Rick said, pulling away and resting a hand on Carl’s shoulder.

Carl nodded.

The heat in Rick’s gaze grew, and he picked Carl up easily, letting the boy wrap his arms around his waist. He walked them to the wall so Carl’s back was resting against it.

Rick held them there for a few seconds before doing anything, giving Carl time to back out. He didn’t, instead he jerked his face forward, connecting his lips with his dad’s. Rick kept it light at first, giving Carl time to adjust to kissing. Rick’s hips were firm against Carl’s, and the boy was so light, that it was effortless to keep him there. Carl’s legs were tightly wound around the man, as were his arms, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Rick started licking at Carl’s lips, urging him to open his mouth. Carl got the hint and opened his mouth for Rick, eventually moving his own tongue experimentally. Rick thought Carl’s inexperience was cute. He thought of who else could have had this experience if things were different. It was his now. Carl was his. Not Daryl’s. Not some stranger’s.

Rick moved his hand down to grip Carl’s growing hardness, his own resting underneath the boy’s ass—pressing against his hole.

Carl let his face slide away from Rick’s and into his shoulder where he bit down to stifle his moans. He’d never felt anyone’s hands on him except his own. Rick groaned at the feeling of Carl’s teeth pressing against his skin.

“How far, Carl?”

“Whatever you want,” Carl whispered, jerking up against his father as he stroked him.

“Give me your mouth,” Rick instructed.

Carl pulled back from the man’s shoulder and opened his mouth. Rick stuck his finger in it, “Suck.”

The boy obliged him, closing his eyes, and sucking Rick obscenely. Rick pulled his finger out and moved his hand under the boy, searching. He circled Carl’s hole carefully, causing the boy to let his head fall once more on Rick’s shoulder, just taking it, pinned there against the wall at his father’s mercy.

Rick could barely handle having his finger inside Carl, what would he do when he pushed inside him and was consumed by the boy’s tight heat?

Carl was opening up for him easily; he was so relaxed against Rick he was just hanging there, supported by the man.

Rick pulled his fingers out and brought them up to his own mouth, adding more spit. He immediately placed them back where they were, pushing them in and out of Carl, earning him moans and loud breaths which echoed throughout the room.

Carl was hard against him—a reminder of his own cock, leaking in anticipation.

“Ready, Carl?” Rick breathed.

“Yeah,” the boy whispered, his head still resting on Rick’s shoulder.

Rick grabbed manoeuvred Carl so he could reach his cock, grabbing it and sliding it into Carl’s ass. The boy’s cry ripped through the silence of the room, settling in Rick’s ears. Carl was already gone and Rick hadn’t even started.

“Good?” Rick asked, resettling the boy lower on the wall to correct the angle.

“Fuck,” Carl panted, “Keep going.”

Rick obeyed, pushing up into the boy once again. He placed one hand behind Carl’s head so it wouldn’t crack against the tile. He used his other hand to stroke Carl’s dick, still unbelievably hard.

Rick was lost in his boy, slamming into him on autopilot—his body doing all the work for him. This was natural. Carl was bouncing against him like a rag doll, pliant and obedient, his arms loosely wrapped around Rick’s shoulders, and his legs around the hips. The only thing keeping him from falling was Rick pressing his body against him.

After a few more thrusts, Carl came between them, groaning out “Dad”.

Rick had never heard anything so hot and endearing. He pressed even tighter against Carl and continued thrusting into him. He was coming within seconds, moaning shamelessly.

After coming down, he backed them from the wall and made to set Carl down, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Carl,” Rick prompted.

“Mmm?”

Rick chuckled, “Get down,”

The boy shook his head, but he let Rick lift him up and off.

“That was exhausting,” Carl said, moving dazedly back to the shower so he could rinse off.

Rick chuckled, “You loved it though.”

Carl flushed, moving his hand behind him to clean his ass. Rick made his way over there to help the boy, running his hand gently down Carl’s crack and letting the water wash away his come. Carl’s body was red where Rick had been pressed against him. Rick examined his own shoulder to see the bite marks Carl had left.

Carl stared at Rick’s shoulder, “I did that?”

Rick nodded, smiling, “Punk.”

The boy laughed, going over to put his clothes back on. Rick followed.

“So, we can do that again, right?” Carl said, looking away from Rick.

Rick pulled the boy’s face towards him so he could see his expression, “As long as you want to, we can do this.”

Carl nodded, “Tonight?”

“We’ll see,” Rick teased, opening the door for his son and leaving the bathroom behind.

 

 

 

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Boy is Mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1523582) by [RickGrimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickGrimes/pseuds/RickGrimes)




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